


in the quiet of morning

by rainberries



Series: that one flower shop au [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, Mindless Fluff, Prompt Fic, aka there's a lot of plants, or as some say, prompt: waking up, this is pretty domestic, this is set in the same universe as my fic 'daises'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8443291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainberries/pseuds/rainberries
Summary: When Neil woke up it wasn’t on his own accord. Still half asleep, he swatted at his face where Sir Fat Cat was enjoying himself by sticking a paw in Neil’s eye, and squinted over at the alarm clock on the bedside table.
  Sighing at the neon 5:02a.m. staring back at him, Neil resigned himself to being awake for the day.— A fic set during a quiet morning in Andrew and Neil's house.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my friend Ren! Sorry it's so late.

When Neil woke up it wasn’t on his own accord. Still half asleep, he swatted at his face where Sir Fat Cat was enjoying himself by sticking a paw in Neil’s eye, and squinted over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Neil didn’t know why they had even bought one in the first place. The alarm was never set because Andrew didn’t like the noise, and they didn’t have a problem waking up, anyway. The cats never failed in bullying them every morning.

Sighing at the neon _5:02a.m._ staring back at him, Neil resigned himself to being awake for the day. He debated heading to the bathroom to begin his morning routine, but after a beat, he turned his head instead. His cheeks pulled comfortably to allow for the small, familiar smile that danced at the corners of his mouth when he saw the boy next to him.

It wasn’t often that Neil woke up before Andrew, but when he did he always took a few moments to simply enjoy it. Andrew’s blond hair was a tangled halo around his head, and his face was open and relaxed in a way that contradicted his usual expression (a shuttered, apathetic countenance that was especially prominent around anyone who wasn’t Neil). It was during moments like these, as the rest of the world slept on and the sun debated rising, that Neil allowed himself to get lost in the planes of Andrew’s face. Neil’s smile blossomed bit by bit as he traced out his favorite details with warm eyes. There, underneath Andrew’s left eye, was a small mole that Neil liked to kiss. Along his nose, was a barely noticeable bump from where Andrew had broken it playing exy last year. On his lips were small cracks, chapped from a night’s worth of breathing, and on his cheeks laid his eyelashes, dark and thick.

Neil knew that the blond couldn’t stand it whenever Neil looked at him like this, and he also knew why. It was hard to keep the warmth from Neil’s expression whenever he looked at Andrew, and a small part of Andrew still didn’t believe Neil was real to begin with. (Neil never bothered to tell him that he never felt more alive than he did when he was looking at Andrew.)

Eyes lingering for another moment, Neil finally turned away to look around the rest of the room. Shoved in every corner were potted plants of every variety. Some of them had large, yellow tipped leaves and thick stems, while others had dainty, pale petals that drooped from their own weight. Neil’s personal favorite was the pot of daisies Renee had given him a few days after their last dinner party. The first time Andrew had seen it, he merely rolled his eyes, but the second time he had moved it wordlessly from the living room and sat it on top of the desk across from their bed. Neil had chosen not to comment on it at the time, knowing full-well that the warmth that lingered in his chest was obvious enough on his face that it didn’t bear mentioning.

Carefully extracting himself, Neil slipped from the bed and padded his way to the kitchen. The tan, swirling tile was cold beneath his feet, and he struggled not to make a sound as he dug out the old watering can from beneath the sink.

Making the rounds, he started in the kitchen as he filled and emptied the can several times over, filling each pot until the dirt stopped absorbing, and the plants’ leaves swayed. Without noticing, he whispered to a few of them as he went, making short observations about their color and vitality. He moved from room to room like that, trailing soft words and muffled steps, until Andrew finally came to watch him from the entryway to the living room.

Neil said nothing as he continued to work, watering can just full enough to water the last few of the plants hanging from their ceiling in hooks. When he was done, he looked back at Andrew (who, for as much as he mocked Neil about his sudden obsession with foliage, never failed in watching him water them every morning), and felt the ghost of his earlier smile threaten to work its way back. Andrew returned the favor by keeping his mouth shut and, after a few comfortable moments, rolled his eyes dismissively before leaving once more to brew a pot of coffee.

The quiet between them was comfortable, unhurried and without pressure, lucidly hanging above their shoulders with a practiced sense of ease. Neil, after putting away the watering can, found himself leaning against the small island in the middle of their kitchen, watching as Andrew poured the dark, murky liquid into one red mug, and then another covered in comic book quotes. (The latter was from Nicky, a Christmas gift that came after Neil admitted to never having read a comic book before. For a week after the admission Nicky had shoved Neil’s arms full of _The Amazing Spiderman_ and _Wolverine_ , only stopping when Andrew made one too many scathing comments about Nicky’s predictable tastes and lack of worthwhile hobbies.)

As Andrew handed Neil the decorative mug, the silence was finally broken. “You’re not dressed for a run.”

Neil barely considered the words, well-aware that he hadn’t slipped away to get dressed that morning in old sweats and beaten-up sneakers like he was prone to do. His morning run was something of a habit, not frequent enough to be called a routine, but close enough to be ordinary.

Neil shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it today.”

Andrew accepted this, and the familiar quiet laxed around them once more. Outside, the sky blossomed red and orange, wisps of color chasing away constellations as the sun finally made its decision. Neil let the feeling of _home_ wash over him, still a new and dangerous weight in his chest. When he had first joined the Foxes two years ago, nothing could’ve convinced him that he’d make it past the spring. But as he stood there, hip uncomfortable against the edge of granite, and too-hot coffee between his hands, he let himself fall somewhere between completely unguarded and disgustingly happy. Neil watched Andrew as if he had never seen him before, eyes trailing over the barely there freckles on Andrew’s nose and the sharp cut of the blond’s jaw, and he knew that he didn’t need — or expect — anything else.

Andrew looked at him unimpressed. “You’re staring, Josten.”

Neil smiled. “I know.”

Around them, the plants began to wake up and take notice of the new food in their pots, arching towards the ceilings as they whispered their gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any prompts or requests, don't hesitate to send them my way [@jtteoml](http://jtteoml.tumblr.com)! thank you for reading ♡


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